


Ringing

by joplin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Domestic Fluff, Happy Dean Winchester, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Post-Canon, but theyre like super married so it's good panic not bad panic, just 2000 words of dean PANICKING because cas is adorable, pretend this happened after 15x19 instead, throwing Carry On out the window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27578440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joplin/pseuds/joplin
Summary: Castiel decided to give up his grace to live a human life with Dean, but he wanted to make it meaningful, so he gave Dean the grace in a vial to wear around his neck.Dean doesn't quite know how to return the gesture, but he has an idea, and he's going to try.(Basically this is them proposing to each other and being flustered, in love disasters)WELP originally this was meant to be post-canon but 15x20 is dead to me so now this is actually just what happened instead of that episode <3
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	Ringing

Dean’s fingers held lightly to the crystal vial around his neck.

It was almost cool to the touch, he thought, like just the idea of a breeze. He remembered when Cas had given it to him, only a few weeks after Dean had gotten him back from the Empty. The angel had turned to him one night, right smack in the middle of _Tombstone_ , and said, “Dean, I need to tell you something.”

Words had rushed out of him then about wanting to be human (and was that okay with Dean or would it bother him, because “ _I don’t want it to change anything for you, but-_ ”) and Dean had simply replied, “Cas, I- of course you can be human if you want to be human, that’s your call, all the way, but why in the hell would you want to do that?”

The depth of Cas’s eyes had seemed infinite then, in the dark, as he worked up to what he had really wanted to say all along.

“I won’t lose you again.”

Dean remembered how his whole body had seemed to melt in that moment as the sincerity of Cas’s words-- mostly simple reasoning, though with an undercurrent of self-imperative gravity-- washed over him.

“Okay,” was all he had said in response, and then Cas had twisted his knees underneath himself to lean forward across the little space between them. It wasn’t their first kiss, but from the way Dean’s heart had tripped over itself, it could have been. Even now, when he thought of how Cas’s hands had felt that night, so careful at the nape of his neck, it threatened to fall out of step again.

He hadn’t known at the time what Cas’s intentions for his grace were. Truthfully, he just hadn’t really thought to ask-- which seemed deeply misguided in retrospect, but at the time just felt respectful.

So, it had come as a shock when Cas returned home one afternoon a few days later (he had left in the morning with an implication-heavy “ _I’m going for a walk._ ”) and marched right up to Dean with his fist clenched tight and a sheepish smile on his face. He had looked different, somehow, Dean thought. Softer, maybe. Or like his eyes had gotten brighter, as if that were possible.

“I was wondering,” Cas had said, presenting his hand, “if you might want to wear this. You might hear it ringing a bit sometimes, but just think of it… think of it as me telling you I love you.”

-

Now, Dean worried a thumb over the vial while, in his other hand, he cradled a small band of stainless steel. It had seemed only fair, he thought, to give Cas something back. And while he didn’t have anything as deeply personal as his own _actual_ given-up-to-be-with-you-for-as-long-as-we-both-shall-live _angel grace_ , he did have a box of old, thrifted rings from when he had wanted to be Mick Jagger back in his early twenties.

So, he had rummaged it out from the drawer of his nightstand last week, carefully moving a newer photo of Sam and Mary out of the way, and tried each band on again for reference. He had then been very careful, over those next few days, to compare his fingers with Cas’s every chance he got. (Cas had discovered him once, as he stared with what must have been bizarre intensity at their clasped hands, but Dean thought he had successfully played that off as an “ _I’m just still so overwhelmed with this great new thing that is happening_ ” moment.)

Eventually, after what was almost definitely a great deal of overthinking, Dean had decided that this ring was his best bet. It was mostly unadorned, but care had been taken to crimp slightly raised edges running along each side. Looking at it had always reminded Dean of a road.

A road, he thought now, that would always lead home.

-

He heard a door close in the distance and knew Cas must be getting home from his new routine of sunrise walks. Dean’s heart accelerated wildly at the sound, and he took a steadying breath, laughing at himself. It’s not like Cas would turn the ring down, he reassured himself. Sure, he was still maybe a little embarrassed at the inequality of his offering, but he knew that Cas would recognize the meaning behind it. And anyway, if the grace was from Cas’s past life, the ring was from Dean’s just the same. They could give each other these pieces of their old selves for safe keeping while they made their new selves together. And in that way, at least, it would be a fair trade.

He held his breath to listen, and he was just able to make out the sound-- so much closer than the approaching footsteps, but magnitudes softer-- from the pendant hanging at his chest.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ it rang softly.

Dean let out his breath.

When he looked up, Cas was standing in the doorway, tufts of dark hair sticking out wildly from under the new beanie Sam had given him. The lobes of his ears and tip of his nose were just slightly pink, and he wore a smile that radiated up through his crystal-bright eyes. Mornings always suited Cas.

Dean couldn’t help but let up a smile of his own at the sight of it all, but then he remembered the ring in his hand and practically jumped from where he had been sitting on the edge of the bed.

Cas’s eyebrows drew up in shock, but the smile stayed in place. _Great start,_ Dean thought to himself. _You probably just looked like an idiot._ He tried not to let the creeping embarrassment slow his momentum, but Cas had already stepped toward him, his smile now replete with one of those quizzical head tilts Dean loved so much.

“Is everything okay, Dean? You seem… startled.”

When Dean opened his mouth to speak, he found that only a very small choking sound came out. _Get it together, man!_ he screamed at himself, but Cas was laughing again. The former angel stepped lightly toward him until their chests were just barely not touching and his eyes were locked up on Dean’s. How anyone could look at him with such wonder-- such open _adoration_ \-- Dean might never understand.

“All well?” Cas asked gently, and he meant it, no teasing. He was always so earnest in his wanting to know every detail about Dean, and the softness in his voice was relaxing enough that Dean could breathe out a “Yeah,” and mean it back. He tried to maintain his hold on his words.

“It’s just, uh,” he stammered on, “I have something for you, and I’m not real good at this part of things, so I just, um…” His mind was going blank again, despite having rehearsed this roughly a dozen times while Cas had been out walking.

“Here, sit down,” he ventured next, and Cas graciously allowed himself to be turned around and nudged gently into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. His face was expectant, but he was practically leaking patience into the air. He was always being so goddamn multifaceted that way; Dean remembered being intrigued, actually, to realize that this nuance wasn’t an angel thing, but rather… just an endearing Cas thing. With that thought back in his mind, a fresh wave of resolve settled over Dean’s heart.

“This is for you,” he gushed, thrusting his hand toward Cas to reveal the ring sitting on his now open palm.

Cas’s mouth partled slightly in surprise, but he didn’t otherwise move or speak. He just stared at the ring, frozen. Dean felt a heat creep over the back of his neck. Had he misjudged this?

But no sooner had he let the doubt cross his mind than Cas had sprung back up and swiped the ring from his hand in an astonishing blur of motion. And then he was kissing Dean, still-cold fingers a relief against his flushed skin.

Dean’s hand had been clenched shut so tight for so long, it felt good to let it rest open against the small of Cas’s back. Well, it would have felt good no matter what, but it felt extra good now, like this.

After several moments, Cas finally drew back. There was an expression of heartbreaking tenderness on his face.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly.

“I know it’s not much-” Dean started, but Cas cut him off, already fiddling to see which finger it would fit on.

“It’s perfect.”

Dean caught Cas’s eye then, and Cas leaned up to brush another soft kiss across his lips.

“It’s from when you were young,” he said fondly, no hint of a question.

Dean was taken aback. “How do you know that?”

“Well,” Cas answered, all tilted smiles once more, “I didn’t. I inferred.” The ring, Dean’s heart swelled to see, was now placed snugly on the middle finger of Cas’s left hand. He kind of liked that it wasn’t quite the “traditional” placement. It added another layer of balance to the symbols; this was for them, and no one else.

“But you told me about your rings once, do you remember?” Cas went on eagerly. “We were driving back from Sun Valley, and, er, ‘Gimme Shelter’? ….came on the radio, and you told me about how you used to sneak away from your father to go look for them at second-hand stores. You said that in the end you had more than enough for one per finger, because you wanted ‘options.’”

Always, always the details.

“I do hope you paid for this, once, though,” he added, a note of cheek in the afterthought.

Hands raised in mock defense, Dean asserted, “Course I did.” (It was anyone’s guess.)

“But anyway,” he went on, the hint of a tease in his voice, “I guess I don’t really need options anymore.”

Cas smiled lightly again, and Dean felt him twine their fingers together. He instantly loved the new sensation of the ring pushing into his hand.

(Sometimes, when Cas held him, he was afraid it was a dream. Or a trick of the light, like if he blinked wrong, Cas would disappear. Dean knew he wasn’t alone in that, though. They had been through so much, it was really no surprise that they now took turns waking up in cold sweats, clutching for each other, murmuring, “ _I’m here, I’m here,_ ” until they could fall back asleep.)

So, as the metal bit gently into his finger, he relished the bracing feeling.

 _It’s real,_ it said.

Dean mused that he might have to get them matching rings after all, just so Cas could have that feeling, too, if he wanted it.

“I guess not,” Cas answered playfully, and his voice was so full of love, Dean knew he could never have dreamt it. He turned to rest his forehead against Castiel’s and felt his hand get squeezed gently in return.

He would savor this moment. Let it anchor him, overwhelm him, do anything it wanted to him.

He tried to breathe steadily, listening for the soft ringing emanating from the vial around his neck.

 _I love you,_ it said.

He shifted his focus down to his hand, where he could feel Cas’s fingers wrapped in his, the edge of the ring pressing into his skin.

_It’s real._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and please always feel free to comment requests! x


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